


Secrets of the Sea

by Flower_Flame_Princess



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mermaids, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Captain Bucky Barnes, Caught in a net AU, Hurt, Hurt Steve Rogers, I just love mermaids okay, M/M, Mermaids, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pirate Bucky Barnes, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Protective Bucky Barnes, Stucky - Freeform, mermaid au, mermaid steve, merman steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flower_Flame_Princess/pseuds/Flower_Flame_Princess
Summary: Steve thinks he's going to die. No Mer has ever been dragged on board of a ship, and lived to tell the tale. Humans were bad, humans were mean. Humans... freed him?Being dragged aboard a ship sends Steve's head on a spin, especially since their Captain is not as bad as Steve had believed humans to be.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 31
Kudos: 332





	Secrets of the Sea

Raw, burning, unbridled panic.

That was all that went through his head right now.

His arms were flailing beside his body, tail beating up and down, left and right in a frantic pace, all in a desperate attempt to swim away, but to no avail. Silver bubbles of air shoot up around him, escaping his lips through forced exhales, reaching a freedom he was cruelly dragged away from faster than he liked. Fingers clawed through the liquid, face twisted up in effort and fear, and pain blooming through every part of his body.

Since he learned about the cruel creatures of the mainland, he had tried to prepare himself should he ever get caught up in a situation like the one he was in now, training himself to stop-drop-and-roll, to writhe, to claw or bite through the ropes that would restrict his movements, to use one of the knives he liked to gather so much. He had worked hard to get muscular, studied the ropes and traps that were used to contain sea creatures, and even asked a few of his friends to assist him when he recreated a capture scene, testing them time and time again, pushing himself to escape every time.

All his training had left him; this was nothing like he had ever trained for. This was a hundred times worse than anything he could have imagined beforehand, this was pure terror wrapped up in a snug layer of extreme panic surging through his body, this was fright and flight instinct dialed up to a damn eleven, this was a desperate attempt to keep himself alive. He had none of his weapons, forgot all his practice. He had not been prepared for this at all.

One moment, he was calmly drifting through the ocean, watching the star fish wave at him and he waved back, and the colorful fishes dragged lines in the water around him, fluttering their pretty fins at him, and he had even seen a dolphin skim through the water beside him. The next he was caught in a net and dragged through the ocean at an alarming speed. His tail was wrapped in the ropes, the thin, strong material cutting further into his scales the more he moved. He clawed at the net, trying to free himself, but with the current, the pain, and the fact the humans above had begun to reel their net in, it was not that easy. And it was when he saw pink trails floating through the water around him, that he really began to panic.

The more he struggled, the more he got tangled up in the net, and the more the fibers cut into his skin and scales. He could already barely move anymore, and though he figured that thrashing and writing would only wrap him up more and result in more pain and suffering, he could not stop. The panic would not let him, and he was not going to make it easy for the men above. This was unlike any training sequence he had ever done before; the sheer fear of being reeled up by humans and the thought of what they would do to him fueled his panic, making adrenaline surge through his body and he lost all coherent thoughts, drowned out to the back of his head.

He was barely lucky enough that the dorsal fins on the back of his tail had not been shredded to pieces yet, though he supposed it was only cruel luck that he remained in such a pristine condition; it would only fetch the humans that would sell him a higher price when their product was in one piece. He would be worth more; all the more reason for the humans to keep him instead of tossing him back like rotten fish. More water flushed pink around him, and he knew that swimming would get really painful for a while. If he would ever swim again.

With eyes burning with tears he realized that this may be the last time he was surrounded by his home waters, that this was the last time he would ever swim freely. They pulled him up, his tail already exposed above the water. He was like a fish on a rod, stuck and dragged in without mercy, hooks and lines in his tail, the midday air kissing his skin coldly after he was used to the warmer waters. The pulley system beat his own strength, hoisting him up in the open air, where sunlight blinded his sensitive eyes, and the screeches of seagulls echoed in his ears.

Through halfway-opened eyes, he saw blurry forms moving about on the ship as he dangled upside down, the ropes straining to hold his weight, digging itself even further into his tail and he let out a slight noise of pain. Like all the other Merpeople he had heard the stories of humans capturing those of Mer, binding them in nets and giving them just enough water to stay alive until they were sold at the docks, and never seen again. They did tests on them on the mainland, in creepy rooms with scary men, needles and knives. Chipping off each individual scale to sell for profits.

The net was pulled to the side, dark wood shifting into his vision instead of the ever-blue waves of his home. He was panting, trying to adjust himself to the sudden change of air. For a moment, he thought the humans were going to let him dangle there, for however long they wished as some kind of cruel show for them to gape at, but a moment later he was dropped, his stomach rising to his throat in the fall. He hit the deck, hard, and at once he tried to move away, back to the edge, back to the ocean.

Though he tried, he could barely move, the net would not allow him to roll, get up, twist or turn. It sat tangled around him too tightly, and every motion only made it worse. He could not find the exit, could barely see, and the humans were probably long aware they had caught the main prize in their nets. They saw him, on their ship, probably amazed by the fact they had caught something so valuable, and they took their time gazing curiously at the creature, knowing it could not leave, not escape, not get anywhere. He was trapped, and soon they would hit him over the head to make him stay still, they would hurt him to make him stop, they would yell at him and lay their grubby hands on him, he was sure of it all.

Humans gathered around him, staring. In his panicked haze he could not decipher what the voices were yelling, but when they came even closer, he knew they would touch him. His heart thumped against his ribcage so hard it became painful, ice water flowing through his veins and goosebumps spread across his arms. He would rather die than fall into the hands of cruel humans. He knew he was worth a fortune dead, and twice that alive, and he wanted to give them neither. If he was here anyway, like he was now, he would rather be dead though. That way, he would not be awake when they did their test and ripped off his scales.

One of the humans, the one that stood closest to him, was speaking to him. He knew the tongue, it was common of the mainland, and sometimes used by those of Mer as well, but he could barely follow any of it as his ears were drumming and his mind was clouded. He flapped his tail the best he could, shifting it left and right, trying to roll as to untangle itself, but as expected he only made it worse. It only hurt more, and he just wanted to be put out of his misery. He wanted it to stop, to go back, to _die_. The human kept talking, he was not sure to whom, because he was not listening.

They grabbed him. In shock, he opened his mouth and hissed, pointy fangs on full display and his usually so beautiful blue eyes got a feral red shine to them. One of the humans, no, _two_ of the humans had grabbed his shoulders and were pushing him down to the deck on his stomach. He thrashed even harder, fighting against the hold, throwing his tail into the fight until another pair of hands got hold of the narrow part right before his caudal fin.

Just like that, he was pinned to the wooden deck, only struggling for as far as the hands would let him.

He was going to die, wasn’t he? He did not want to die, not yet. He was still so young, he wanted to live, to swim. He could not leave the others behind; Peggy, Dum Dum, Jim, or any of the others. This was not supposed to be his end, he had so many plans! He had so many places he still wanted to visit, species to see, reefs to explore, this could not be where that all would end. He was going to be dragged away, just like Lila when she came too close to a human ship.

A soft wail left his lips, and he keened in pain when someone tugged at the rope, not caring that he did sound pathetic, and the humans would probably laugh at his misery. Every time there was a tug, he whimpered, cried, trying to make it stop but the humans had his arms, his tail, his back. They pushed him down on the deck, the dense wood smelling of fish and sea salt beneath his cheek. He tried to listen to the voices, tried to understand what they were saying as to minimalize the unknown and what they were planning for him.

"Just- just hold him still!" one voice said, a male one.

Knowing what they wanted, he did the exact opposite; working his tail with all his might and the human that was holding down his fin shouted for help, barely able to contain the flapping appendage that had been pushing him forth through the water for many years. Two humans were gripping the end of his tail now, working it down to the floor. He tried to look behind him, to see what the male human was doing who had asked for him to be held still. He saw a flicker of silver in the corner of his eye, a blade gleaming in the light of the sun, a sharp edge reflected in the blue of his eyes.

Shock and fear and panic pushed its way free in the shape of a high-pitched scream, but he was not a siren. His vocal cords only allowed him so much, and the truly high-pitched, deafening, ear-bleeding screams were reserved to sirens, those with the wings who soared through the skies with claws and feathers. He was a merman, with a tail and scales and fish, brain-melting screams were not filed under his skillset, and he had not even been as disappointed about that as he was now.

The humans were only put off for about a second or two at the cry of anguish and anger; his scream had not done much to drive them away, it had merely spooked them a little. The hands pressed against his back, between his shoulder blades, holding him down tight and securely so that he could not move. He was losing strength, fast, and tears rolled down his face when he realized he would not be able to keep his struggles up for much longer. He was tired, hurt, had suffered from blood loss and like this, under the midday sun, he was drying out.

"Hurry up, James!" one of the men that was pressing down on his shoulder called out, slight signs of distress in his voice. "This is really stressing me out!"

"It would be easier if he just stopped moving, goddammit!"

He let out another cry when the pain hit mean and fast, like the stab of a knife, feeling more of his strength fade away until he could do nothing but lay on the deck of the ship, breathing fast and shallow, his heart pounding so hard it drummed through his throat to his head. Minutes passed, dragging on like slugs so slowly it was like they were asleep. After those minutes he lost strength, lying still instead, defeated, afraid. He did not want to be alive when they would sell him, but he did not want to die either. He just wanted this to stop.

Giving up would be so easy, just lying limply beneath their hold, waiting for it to be over, for the pain to pass and the fear to swallow him entirely, taking him to a place where he would not feel or think altogether. He wondered, when his instinct kicked in truly and he would do anything for himself to stay alive, if he would go feral and charge at everything in sight with nails and teeth, or that he would stay still, more concerned with his survival than with overthrowing his enemies. From the looks of it, from how he felt, he guessed it was the latter.

A few stifled sobs died quietly on his lips, trembling breaths in and out, and he squeezed his eyes closed, not even wanting to see whatever monsters gathered around would do all kinds of horrible things to him, as he lay there defenseless and out of the water. There was more pulling at the ropes, and he bit back a scream that threatened to rip lose from his throat. However, he never felt the pain of a knife slicing through his skin, or the burning agony that came with his scales being chipped off. It did hurt, but not like that.

When he had turned silent, even his breaths quieting and the storm in his ears that came with the panic had subsided, he could hear a quiet _snap_ spin up to his ears. Surprise seeped in when he heard another one, and then another one. He wondered what they were doing, what kind of game they did play. He breathed in deeply, a weight lifted off his chest as soon as one of the worst pains was relieved, a certain tension released from around his tail. Whoever it was that was busying themselves at the height of his hips, they were relieving him from the ropes that so cruelly ripped in his flesh.

From then on, he lay still, not because he was defeated, but because it felt _right_. For some reason he could not quite explain, he had the feeling he should lay still, let it happen. He felt that he should stop resisting and let the man do whatever it was that he was doing, because something about it felt right. He could not say what, but he could feel it in his chest, as it mixed with the surprise. He blinked slowly, confused, wondering why they were taking his pain away rather than adding to it.

"There you go," the man murmured softly, as another _snap_ sounded, "There you go. Good boy."

Blood welled in a few of the cuts as soon as the pressure was lifted, thin red lines crisscrossing his skin. Even though it hurt, he stayed quiet, unmoving, waiting. The wooden deck was rough beneath his cheek and chest, and he could smell a faint whiff of fish and seaweed. He saw boots in his vision, brown, leather boots, multiple pairs of them, standing around him. He tried to count the pairs, but it was difficult to see. Two at his back, one at his hips, two at his tail, and there were some others he guessed, standing there but doing nothing.

When a piece of the net was pulled up again, adding tension to the rest that sat wrapped around his frail dorsal fin, he whimpered quietly, trying to bite back the pathetic sound but it _hurt_.

"Oh God– I’m so sorry, darling. Just a little longer, alright? I almost got you out."

He wanted to struggle, but if what the human said was true, then he would be better off just lying still and letting it happen to him instead of fighting. He could feel the thin threads of the net snapping away from his body, the pressure leaving his scales, the tangled mess removed from around him, and he believed the human, at least in what he said. With soft breaths, he waited, letting the humans do their thing, though he wished they would stop pinning him to the ground, as it was rather uncomfortable.

Kind of everything about this situation was uncomfortable, mostly the effects of the blood loss, because he began to see double, though that could have been because of the panic. He was not sure what caused what, he just knew that he was not comfortable and wanted to get away from here. Far, far away.

There was a soft yank to the net, and he cried shortly, trying to pull back his tail and get away from the grabbing hands but they would not let him.

"It’s alright," the male at his hips murmured, shushing softly in an attempt to calm the merman, "It’s alright. _Shh_ , I got you."

He lay still, ignoring his instincts that screamed at him to keep moving, and he sucked in a shuddering breath. Something about the man’s soothing words felt nice, but the contrast of pain and comfort was strange, and he was unsure on which to focus. He flapped the end of his tail, trying to push it up a little and move it, but the human there kept it down, nails pressing against his scales. They did not mean to cause him hurt, not really, they just wanted to keep him down. All of them did. Why else would they cut the net? Why else would they speak soft words and tell them they were working on it?

As he lay there, he became uncomfortably aware of everything that happened with his body. From the pulling of the threads, to the hands on his tail, to the other hands between his shoulder blades. He felt rough skin scrape along his back, covering a few places where the sun could not reach him now. He wished someone would turn off the sun, or cover him with something. He wished the deck of the ship was not so hard and rough. He wished a lot of things.

"You gotta–" The man at his hips paused shortly, "You think you can turn him to his back? There’re some nasty knots there I gotta take care of. Or at least on his side or something."

One of the men at his shoulders huffed. "If he bites me, I swear to God–"

"Shut up, Barton, just do what Barnes says," the other at his shoulder interrupted, "Careful now."

As they grabbed to move him, he struggled weakly, but it did not do much to the hands that curled around his biceps, turning him on his back. They pinned his hands beside his head, their hands on his wrists and biceps, and struggling was even harder because of the new position they put him in. He tried to, but it was more difficult to put strength behind it, especially since he had so little left.

It was overwhelming, to be honest. The sounds of seagulls screeching as flew high above, the rolling of the waves and their harsh crash against the ship, the heat of the sun beating down his chest and face, the ropes still partially digging into his tail, the man with the knife who was murmuring surprisingly soft and soothing reassurances all the while he was pulling and cutting the net. His world was spinning, and he just wanted to get back into the water. He did not care that the man said he did well. He did not care the man said he would have to hold on. He did not know what the human meant by that, or what his true goal was here, so even though it was almost nice to be called _darling_ , he wanted to go back to the ocean.

After lying there for what felt like hours, it felt as though his innards were being replaced by some kind of black hole. Then nausea crept from his abdomen to his head and large, black spots in his vision began to expand, taking over his eyesight until he saw nothing at all, and he had to blink a few times before it slowly slid back into focus. The head of a dark skinned and a light skinned human hovered above him. The light one had blonde hair, and a bandage on the bridge of his nose.

Steve drew in a heavy breath, shuddering a little, and another whine escaped his lips once he felt the ropes pulled at again. The soft murmurings of the man at his hips started once more, little reassurings and gentle phrases. Steve swallowed, hoping that once he was free, they would also have the decency to put him back in the ocean and not throw him down to their hold in some chest of water, and keep him there until they were on the mainland. The pressure was released, and more silent _snaps_ spun up to his ears, until there was no pressure left at all.

"Done!" the man with the knife said, "You can get him up, I’m done."

The hands curled tighter around his biceps, pulling him up a bit and he felt tempted to snap his teeth at them. He did not, he let them push him up to a sitting position, so that he could take a look at his own tail. The net that had been woven around him was gone, only cut pieces remained on the wooden deck. His tail was free. It was bleeding all over, his blue scales covered with red as it dripped down his sides, but at least he was free. They had destroyed their own net for him.

He looked at the man with the knife, and stilled. The man was looking back at him, into his eyes. The human’s eyes were an icy blue, like the glaciers under the deep ocean of the chilly waters Steve had swam through before. He had half-long brown hair that reached his jawline, tucked behind his ears. The soft-looking, thick strands of hair that seemed to want to curl framed his face nicely. He was smiling. For a moment, Steve could do nothing but smile back, a little shyly.

Then he turned his attention back to his tail, watching a woman push down on his fin. She had locks of hair ablaze like fire, bright like tropical fish with the most outstanding colors. She had eyes like emeralds, sharp and piercing like that of a shark. Steve tried to pull back his tail, away from her grasp, but the human woman stayed strong and kept it where it was. He huffed, scrunching his nose and curling his lips up in a snarl.

The man with the knife seemed to startle a little at that, and he turned towards the woman. "Romanov, let go."

Though she seemed a bit skeptical, the woman did what the man said and stepped away from Steve’s tail. He flapped the caudal fin a little, making sure nothing was damaged. Then he looked over at the man with blonde hair holding his bicep. The fingers were tight around his arm, nails digging but a little into his skin.

"Let go," Steve said, slowly, "Or I’ll bite your hand off."

The blond’s eyes turned twice as big, and he immediately did what Steve asked of him. He seemed completely shocked at what the creature before him had said, stumbling over his words, "I-I didn’t know they could talk."

Steve paid him no more attention, and shifted it towards the man on his other side, who had raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?" the man asked, "Biting?"

With a shrug, the dark-skinned man let go of his arm as well, taking a few steps back as to give him space. Steve looked at his tail again, curling it up a bit so he could reach it more easily, gently running the tips of his fingers down the bloody scales. He bit back a hiss, but was relieved when most of the wounds had already stopped bleeding. His fins seemed to be fine, a little crumpled, but they did not seem to be torn or cut, and he only had lost a very few scales. He was lucky.

Though… lucky?

The crew of the ship was still around him, their eyes prying to find out more about the mystery that was on their deck, unable to get to the sea himself in time. If he tried to leave, they could easily step forward and drag him back, tie him up with the ropes, force him to stay. They could easily keep him from returning to the water. A moment later, the man with the knife crouched down next to him, giving him a gentle smile as he stroked the brown strands of hair away from his eyes. He did not seem unfriendly- but then again, some sharks and very poisonous fish did not either.

"Hey," the man said, in a soft voice, "My name is- I’m James. James Buchanan Barnes. We, uh…" He looked over his shoulder shortly, trying to find some help from the other members of the crew. Unless they could communicate by thoughts, there was none, and the man – James Barnes – looked back at him. "We were trying to catch the big shark that has been ripping up nets. We didn’t know you were um… a- a um."

"A merman," Steve finished, eyeing him and the others carefully. If he played it smart, he could leave here in a few minutes. As soon as possible. "That’s alright. I understand."

The man – James Barnes – seemed relieved at that, sagging just this little bit as a bit of a smile broke through his face. "That’s- that’s great! You think you can swim?"

Swim. Yeah, he could do that. It would hurt for a while, but the reefs were not far away, neither were the caves and there was a big island with a hidden shore not too far from here. Even if he could _not_ swim, he could easily find a place to rest and heal. He would be alright. He just wanted to go back to the water. So, he nodded quickly, hoping that would be enough. It seemed like it was, thank the sea gods.

"Wilson, Barton," Barnes made a sharp gesture with his hand, "With me."

Barnes moved forward, and Steve’s heart picked up a pace as he felt hands touching his skin.

"I’m gonna try to lift you up, can you put your arms around me?"

It was so casually asked, as though he was _not_ asking Steve to put his arms around a man who had just caught him in his net and reeled him up onto the main deck, where he was kept down to the flooring. Inside his chest, confused emotions howled, fear and relief clawing and biting at each other, for he could barely comprehend that this man, the man on the large ship with the nets, had no interest in keeping Steve captive and selling him as soon as they were back on the mainland.

The thought did not even seem to cross the man’s mind, and that was so unexpected that Steve did not know what to do with himself. In his half-stupor that had put his mind to pause, he lifted his hands and curled them around Barnes’ neck. He felt an arm slip over his back, under his shoulders, and another tried to curl beneath his tail. He lifted it a little, so the man had better grip. The other two men, Wilson and Barton, came to help, supporting his pained, heavy tail. There were quite a few hands on his body right now, but they were moving towards the edge of the ship, to the sea, and Steve’s heart beat faster though that was not the only reason.

Barnes was warm. Really warm. It was not warm like the tropical waters Steve would sometimes swim through; it was more solid. Comforting. Even through the man’s clothes, Steve could feel the warmth of his body seep into his own, cooler skin. Water stole warmth rather fast, so it was better for sea creatures to be somewhat cold-blooded, warming by drifting in the light of the sun rather than spending much energy in trying to warm themselves up. In the moment itself, he decided that he liked it.

He liked the warmth, and he liked the soft words Barnes spoke, an attempt to soothe any nerves or panic he thought the merman may have, and it did. Though the moment was short, it was rather calming, and before he knew it, he was sitting on the railing of the ship, his tail hanging down towards the water, grazing the wood of the ship.

As he sat there, ready to push himself away, to tumble into the water and be free, Steve looked back at the crew. "Thank you," he said.

The man named James Barnes shook his head. "No need to thank us. It was our fault you got stuck in the first place."

That coaxed a small smile out of Steve, and he shared a look with Barnes a moment more. He should not be wanting what he did want now. It was not logical, or rational, and he was not sure if it would end up good or come back to bite him later, but he wanted to. He wanted to say it. He wanted it so badly, that he just did it. "I’m Steve."

Before the crew could answer, he had placed his hands on the wood and pushed himself away from the edge. Wind licked at his skin and scales a moment more, then the deep waters engulfed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Just really had to get this out of my head, mermaid Steve just... I love him, okay. And I'm fascinated by the 'Caught in a Net' premise of stories. 
> 
> May continue the story, or just leave it with this. Depends on whether people like this story, and if I can find ideas of what to do next. Maybe another meeting, maybe Steve saves Bucky, who knows? I'll see.


End file.
